


Gray

by msgenevieve



Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: F/M, Het, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-12-21
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 23:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I have no real claim on her. I want one. I want her to be mine, to be out of Michael's reach.</i> Contains spoilers for Gray and Choice and dialogue that does not belong to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gray

~*~

We are together, and yet sometimes she is not really here. I feel so close to her, and then, in a heartbeat she is gone, those clear blue eyes clouding over, a look of profound sorrow taking her away from me.

I still can't believe that I found her. I hadn't been to that library for so long. I can't even remember now what book I was looking for. I certainly wasn't prepared for what I actually did find.

An amazing woman.

She slammed into me, books scattering, stammering apologies. My initial irritation turned into schoolboy awe as I looked into her face, her pure blue eyes smiling behind glasses that would have looked ugly on any other woman.

My heart, shrouded in grief and loneliness for so long, started to pound as her scent teased my nostrils. Lavender and ylang-ylang, smells that were so achingly familiar to me that I was transported back to another time, another woman. I could hardly string a sentence together.

"Really, Poly. Wow...I'd love to go to Poly!" She was so intense, so earnest in her enthusiasm.

I can handle the mood swings. The sun cannot compete with her when she is happy, the joy she radiates warming my skin, my soul. I can cope with the disappearing acts now and then. I have no real claim on her.

No, it is something else that claws at my gut, a gnawing doubt that plagues me at 3:00am, my chest aching with dread when I finally let the thoughts in.

Her cousin.

_Michael._

Sometimes I throw his name into the conversation, wanting and yet not wanting to see her reaction. She hides it well, but love has made me too perceptive. Her spine stiffens, and some of the light goes from her face. Her smile is too broad, her tone too casual.

I remember my first meeting with him. My stomach clenches when I remember the way he looked at her. Spoke to her. Nikita and I had made love not fifteen minutes before, but the strange palpable tension that was suddenly in that small kitchen was not between _us._

Why was he angry that her phones were out of commission? The conversation between them was strained, their mouths saying nothing that could not be said in front of me, but their eyes clashed and held, a silent battle of wills being fought. Apparently, he is hardly ever in town, and yet he stalked through her apartment with an air of ownership, marking out his territory. He stalked her. He smiled pleasantly at me, but I noticed a dark note of anguish in his eyes before the shutters came slamming down. Was it jealousy? I'm not sure. His behavior was that of a man who had realised a truth too late. The anger I felt in him seemed to be directed inward, rather than the two of us.

I fall back on my reasoning of old. If there had been something between them in the past, she would have told me. She has always been so honest with me, sometimes brutally so. She avoids talking of him, a spark of intense emotion flaring in her eyes when I mention his name before she blinks and I am left wondering if I imagined it.

~*~

I am lying here now, on this king-size bed, alone. I have taken her away for the weekend. It was a surprise for her, a romantic interlude that I have planned down the last detail. I admit it, it's the architect coming out in me. I think that's why we are such a good match. Miss Impulsive and Mr Compulsive Planner. We flirted outrageously during the three-hour train trip, anticipation of some time alone together making us both playful, reckless. Why am I by myself? Nikita is in the shower. Alone.

She was so happy, laughing and twirling like a small child. That was the only child-like quality about her that afternoon. Her eyes were alive with erotic promise, her mouth on mine hot and needy. I can still see her standing over me on the bed, her long legs making me a willing captive.

A phone call from housekeeping broke the mood. I saw her change right before my eyes. It would have been fascinating if it didn't tear at my heart every time it happened. Then she was playing hard to get, as least that what I thought it was. Wanting a shower. Wanting to be alone.

The door opens, and I see her face. How can a person change so much in the space of five minutes? She is as cold as ice. Everywhere. Her skin, her smile, her eyes. Her whole body seems like it was slumped in defeat. How? Why? I can't understand her, and she is not going to explain herself to me.

"I'm not feeling very well." She sounds so lost, and I don't know how to react. A slow anger, born of frustration, begins to burn in my chest.

I clear my throat. "I know you don't like to talk about your past, but every now and then I lose you." I watch her, wanting to see her reaction to the words I have wanted to say for weeks.

She swallows hard, her face blotchy from crying. She is trying hard to make eye contact with me but it is obviously difficult for her. Those blue eyes keep darting away, seeking answers elsewhere.

"Gray, I'm sorry. There are just some things I have to work out myself."

I search for the right words to say. I'm flying blind here. How can I know what to when I have no idea what is wrong, what is always wrong?

"Can I help?"

She just looks at me with empty eyes. An involuntary shiver goes down my spine. _Who are you?_

"Yeah." I can hear my anger finally coming out in my voice, but I don't care. _I can't deal with this any more._

"Why did we come here?" Her abrupt question surprises me. I turn to look at her, trying to figure out exactly what she meant.

"Why? What do you mean? To be together." I emphasis the last word, the simmering resentment that I am feeling spilling out.

"Why here? Why this hotel?" I stare at her, knowing that she is as far away from me as she has ever been, and I don't know what to do to fix it.

"Is that why you're upset? Did Michael tell you?" Her expression shifts when I say his name. A look of hopelessness filters through her eyes. She is suddenly wary, suspicious.

"Michael? Tell me what?" She doesn't even realise it, but her voice changes when she says his name. It is as though he is suddenly in the room with us.

"Michael called the other day, when you were out. I told him that we were going away for the weekend and he said that you liked this place and that..."

She gives a sarcastic laugh, not a shred of humour in it.

I hear my voice trail off, as she moves to slump into a chair near the window, her head bowed. Her eyes filled with tears, and a look of resigned weariness came over her. _What the hell is going on?_

"What is the big deal?" I try to keep my voice calm, but my frustration and jealousy is getting the better of me. "Like you've got some family thing, or what?"

_Please talk to me. I need to understand what I've done wrong by bringing you here._

"Yeah, yeah...it's a family thing." The words are almost a sigh. I look into her eyes, and see only sadness.

I wanted to shake her and ask her all those questions that haunted me, night after night as I lay alone. Alone because she couldn't come over because of family problems. Alone, and tortured by questions I knew that I would never ask her.

What is Michael to you?

Why do you flinch every time the phone rings?

Where do you go when you're not with me?

More importantly, I thought sadly, _where does your mind go when you **are** with me?_

I cannot do this a second longer.

"Okay, then we'll go back." I start to walk away from her.

"No!" That one word stops me in my tracks. I stand still, at a loss. What am I meant to do here? Comfort her? Be angry? _This is getting all too hard._

She continues, her voice sending shivers down my back.

"I want to stay. I want us to have a good time. I want us to laugh and drink, and I want to stay up all night long."

I look at her. My god, she is beautiful. And she is mine. I can't leave her. Our eyes hold as I walk over to her, her arms coming up to welcome me. Her lips part softly as I kiss her, my body instantly reacting to her closeness, the feeling of her against me.

"I'm not crazy, I'm crazy for you." She offers me a wan smile, a spark of life in her face for the first time since she emerged from the bathroom.

I hold her close, her wet hair cool against my face. My hands caress her back through the thick toweling robe, suddenly wanting her so much that the spectre of Michael fades, my frustrated jealousy suddenly seeming ridiculous in face of my rising desire. She lets me slip the robe from her shoulders, clinging to me. I no longer care about Michael, her family secrets, the wrong numbers in the middle of the night. Passion clouds my doubts, hiding them from view. She is here with me, she is mine in that moment, and that is enough.

~*~

It is no longer enough.

I hurry now, wanting to see her. My heart is pounding, adrenaline surging through my veins. The thought of her usually makes my pulse race, but today something else has me breaking out in a cold sweat. They say that your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die but it's not true. It's not your life but what you realise you haven't done yet that slams into your brain.

My breath is still a little ragged. I slow my pace, trying to calm my thoughts. I finger the piece of paper in my pocket. I hope I wrote down the number of that car correctly. I'm pretty sure that I haven't, but I'm going to call the police from her apartment anyway. _Bloody idiot!_ Unbelievable that he would almost run me down and then just keep going! And where had he come from? It was like he came out of nowhere.

I reach her apartment, a feeling of peace coming over me. I take out my key, her key, smiling as I remember her giving it to me with a flourish and a wicked grin. It was almost as thought I'd passed some sort of test and she was my reward.

I take a deep breath before turning the key. How many times can a guy rehearse asking the most beautiful woman in the world to move in with him? I try to tell myself that it has nothing to do with Michael, but I can't. I want to break his hold over her, whatever it may be. I sense something between them, something dark that I cannot begin to understand. I have no real claim on her. I want one. I want her to be mine, to be out of Michael's reach.

I had already decided to ask her to live with me, but my near accident makes it seem so much more urgent. I love her. I know that she loves me, that she adores my daughter. I want her with me all the time. I have to ask her. She can only say no. What's the worst that could happen?

~*~


	2. Nikita

~*~

 

There are moments in a girl's life that make her stop and look at herself from the outside and wonder just how she got to this particular point.

This is mine.

I am standing with my arms wrapped around a murderer, a terrorist called Ilya Benko who would happily take my life in the blink of an eye. He doesn't seem too sure about sacrificing himself though. Thanks to him, I am wearing a quite hideous necklace wired with explosives, and his thumb is currently hovering over a little green button that will send us both to another place. Not to the same place, hopefully.

"Ni-ki-ta."

Michael's quiet voice carries a terse appeal to my common sense, but I don't seem to be carrying much of that at the moment.

I glance over at him, his gun trained on Benko, his eyes trained on me. The bleak reality that is my life smacks me in the face.

_This is not a life._

"Neither one of us has much to lose. Go on." I grip Benko tighter in my embrace, my heart in my throat. I wait. I can feel Benko's hand trembling where it touches mine. I'm not doing too much better. I close my eyes, half-wishing that he would press the damn thing. I can hear my own shallow breathing in my ears, my heart thudding insanely against my ribs.

I feel the hard plastic of the remote being pushed into my hand, but I hold my breath until Benko releases it.

"Thank you." I mentally smack myself on the forehead. Thank you? What for? _Oh, thank you for not blowing me into a million pieces._ I sound like an idiot.

The air whooshes back into my lungs, and I open my eyes to find Michael watching me intently. I pull my arms away from Benko, barely resisting the urge to brush my clothes off. Coward. Didn't even have the decency to die for his beliefs.

I walk slowly over to Michael, and watch as Benko is manhandled away by the other members of our team, wishing him only very bad things.

Michael stands looking at me, the cold wind whipping his hair around his face. He doesn't speak.

" I knew he didn't have the guts." I wait for him to lecture me, but he doesn't. He looks quite pale actually. If I didn't know better I'd think that he was more shocked than angry at what I'd just done.

The remote is still in my hand, the necklace still heavy around my neck. Michael steps closer to me, one gloved hand held out expectantly for the remote control. I start to drop it into his hand but something stops me. I've trusted him with my life before, just never quite so directly. I'm literally holding my life in my own hands. He looks down at our hands, and then back up at me. He seems surprised at my hesitation. Quite frankly, so am I. But I curl my fingers around the remote and slip it into my coat pocket before meeting his gaze, daring him to object. I see a faint glimmer of acknowledgment in his eyes before I turn on my heel and walk away from him.

This is not a life.

 

~*~

 

 

The Section Directory hasn't been found. As far as I'm concerned though, our latest mission wasn't a total wash-out. After so many 'lurks' in this place, I've finally stumbled across a 'perk'.

Gray.

I have a new black dress and a date, all on a good hair day. It doesn't get much better than that. I am trying not to look too eager to escape the Section walls just in case I jinx my night off. A feminine lilt from above halts my progress.

"I see you lost your necklace."

Madeline. After all this time, she still has the power to make me nervous, but not tonight. I can't remember the last time I actually felt like this. Happy, almost giddy with anticipation. I like it. Twirling my choker in her direction, I give her a genuine smile.

"Well, I prefer my own jewelery." _Especially seeing as none of my stuff tends to explode._ She gazes down on me with an expectant air. I pull my mind away from thoughts of my destination and try to focus on the Section business at hand.

"So, the Directory is still at large?" For a split second I'm worried that she'll be able to pick up on my attitude of "tell someone who cares, because tonight I really don't", but she only smiles at me.

"I'm afraid so. Some of us continue to walk around with the Sword of Damocles over our head."

_Whatever._ I can't think of anything to add so I just smile and head for the exit again. _Almost there -_

"Where are you going?"

I close my eyes in frustration, feeling like I am fourteen again and my mother, in one of her rare sober moments, is riding me about my curfew. Still, not a lot can ruin my mood tonight. I throw her another grin.

"To dinner."

"With Mr. Wellman?"

I hesitate for a moment, but there is really no point in lying. "Yes, is that a problem?" I ask the question as casually as I can, not wanting to let her see how important her answer is to me. As usual, I don't get a straight answer.

"That depends. Is it about dinner, or something more?"

I sigh inwardly, thinking that she has just asked the sixty-four thousand dollar question. But I don't know the answer myself...how can I possibly tell Madeline how I'm feeling?

"I don't know yet." _But I'm sure I'll be finding out in a couple of hours._ A frisson of excitement flutters down my spine as I think of Gray's reaction when I said yes to coming to dinner. I still can't get used to feeling so...wanted.

She gives me a concerned, almost motherly look. "Your relationship with us is the only real relationship you'll ever have."

Her soft words are like a slap in the face and I have to look away. _Damn her._ Just when I get to a point where I have momentarily forgotten my life, I am abruptly reminded of where I am. I say nothing.

"If, knowing that, you still want to proceed, I just hope he's a good cook." I can hear hidden laughter in her voice and give her a complicit grin.

We're not talking about food any more. I like Madeline like this. We should discuss men more often. I laugh up at her.

"I'm sure he's a_ fabulous_ cook."

 

~*~

 

 

I feel a little lost in the unfamiliar street. Number 66...where is it? _There, finally._ Nice place. _Nice guy,_ I correct myself with a grin. I pull my coat tighter around me. I've felt uneasy ever since leaving Section, but I can't put my finger on the reason. Senses that were already fine-tuned from a life on the street have been honed to a knife-edged awareness, thanks to Section, and something just doesn't feel right. _Awareness or paranoia? I keep forgetting,_ I snort sarcastically to myself as I look over my shoulder for about the tenth time.

Either way, I'm strangely relieved to have reached Gray's home. I hesitate before ringing the bell, that same feeling of someone watching me suddenly stronger than ever. I search the dark street, my eyes straining, nerves jumping down my spine. The street is empty, I am totally alone, and yet there is a scratchy heat running across my shoulders like a rash that I can't shake.

_Enough stalling, just ring the bell, you coward._ I haven't been on a date for so long, I can't believe that I'm so nervous. But considering that the last guy I went on a date with turned out to be running a nasty little sideline in child slavery, I think I'm doing pretty well.

I try not to think of Madeline's words to me before I left Section, try to ignore the annoying little voice in my head telling me that she might be right. No. There is nothing wrong with going on a date with Gray.

It's not as though it's going to get serious. It's nothing I can't handle.

 

 

~*~

 

I never thought that I would feel such a sense of contentment here, in this place. I've felt fear, despair, longing and betrayal, but never this feeling of peace before. There is only one thing spoiling it. The guilt that has me in its grip every time I have to tell yet another lie to the man that I have just made love with, the man who is now cradling me in his arms. Having said that, it's been a pretty amazing month.

I sigh into Gray's chest. I have been dreading this conversation, and yet I knew it was coming. Gray wants us to have a picnic on Sunday along the river. And he wants to bring his daughter along so that she and I can get to know each other. What can I say that won't hurt him?

"You know, just seems a bit too soon."

"You don't feel the same way I do?" His hand is stroking my hair so tenderly, it is almost my undoing. Almost. I feel that same twinge of doubt assail my thoughts. _Be careful. Tread warily._

"No, I do." He looks at me, obviously wanting a proper reason for my hesitation. I take a deep breath and wonder, not for the first time, how I got myself into this situation.

" Of course I do, and I really want to meet her. I...It's just...she's your daughter and... it's going to be hard for her."

It's not really a reason, and he knows it. He frowns slightly as he keeps touching my hair, my face.

"We've got to start somewhere."

"I don't want to start something that I can't finish. If Casey gets attached to me, what if in six months it doesn't work out?"

I tried to keep my tone light, but Gray still manages to pick up on something darker because he starts to babble slightly. "No guarantees in life. Are there guarantees in life? Well, death and taxes are guarantees...." He stops suddenly, realising that he is indeed babbling and smiles at me.

"Gray..." What can I say? God, I hate this, hate lying to him and not being able to give him all of myself. But if I'm honest with him, it will endanger his life. Other girls don't have to deal with this problem when they're dating. I hate my life.

"What's up? What's holding you back?"

I nuzzle my chin into his chest a little. He's so warm, so comforting. I'm so tired of jumping when the phone rings, of trying to calm my pounding heart every time there is a knock on at the door. So tired of hiding who I really am from everyone who comes into my life. I look up at him, watching me so expectantly. I can't believe I'm even thinking this, but would they even know if I told him who I really was? If he didn't tell anyone, how could they find out? _No, I can't do it. I can't risk it._ The urge to confide in him is so strong that it frightens me.

A noise from my living room interrupts my thoughts, pulling me back to reality with a harsh grip.

"What's that?" I mutter before I can stop myself. Someone is knocking on my door.

"What is it?" He moves under me as though he is going to get up to answer the door. Instinct makes me put a hand on his chest.

"Nothing." It's late, and there aren't too many people that it could possibly be. Butterflies start to flutter in my stomach and I quickly blink back the tears that threaten to fill my eyes before Gray can notice them. _This isn't fair. All I wanted was a little time to myself._

I grab the first item of clothing that comes to hand, which happens to be Gray's. After a quick once-over to make sure that it at least covers my backside, I race down the stairs.

"Coming!" _Please let it be Carla. Please don't let it be who I think it is._ I look through the peephole and my stomach starts to churn with cold dread.

_Shit._ I can't believe this. Michael's here. Does this sort of crap happen to everyone in Section, or just me? He is not going to leave until I open the door. Making sure that Gray is still safely in my bedroom, I slowly open the door to face him.

I feel decidedly at a disadvantage. Gray's shirt covers me just fine, but I suddenly feel naked under his intent stare. His gaze roams over my body, the sudden intensity in his eyes startling me. He lifts his eyes to mine, and for a split second I see a bleak darkness in them before his face settles back into its usual inscrutable mask.

My pulse is pounding in my throat.

"Who is it?" Gray's voice makes me jump. I have no idea what to tell him. Basically, I want the ground to swallow me up. I stare at Michael, silently begging him for inspiration.

"It's your cousin Michael." His words are soft, but the effect is the same as if he was yelling at me. Heat pricks uncomfortably down my back, and all I can do is glare at him. _What is he doing here_? He is fingering his chin as he contemplates me, as though he needs to do something with his hands. I haven't seen him for three weeks, and this is not quite the setting that I would have chosen for a reunion.

"Now's not a good time Michael!" I whispered furiously, praying that Gray would stay in the bedroom. I do not need this tonight.

"Since when do you decide when's a good time?" His face has that pinched angry look that only I seem to be able to give him. He reaches out and pushes the door open, hard. I look nervously over my shoulder to check on Gray, and when I turn back, Michael's unexpected nearness unsettles me. His eyes are burning into mine as he takes my face in his hands. _God Michael, what are you doing?_ My skin is tingling where he is touching me, and the smell of leather from his rain slicked jacket fills my nostrils.

"I missed you!" His voice is so unlike him that all I can do is stare at him in surprise. I watch his green gaze narrow with intent as he tilts his head towards mine, his hands hard on my face. Staring at his mouth so close to mine, I barely have the presence of mind to jerk my head away so that his lips brush my cheek instead. It takes all my self-control not to rip myself out of this strange embrace while he kisses the other cheek, his mouth lingering.

He pulls back and his hands drop away, the light fading from his eyes as he quickly looks away from me. He steps past me into my home, and finds the target he was looking for. _Please, Michael! Please, don't do this to me._ He ignores the look of desperation that I throw him and with one sentence, brings my two worlds crashing together.

"You must be Gray!"

 

~*~

 

I have sent Gray home. Having my Section life collide with my life with Gray kind of ruined the evening for me.

I flick through a magazine, staring at clothes that no normal human being could ever get into. I can't stop thinking about Michael.

He put on a great show for Gray, my buy-art-for-galleries cousin. _Just where does he find the time to get all those different business cards printed, anyway?_ He was obnoxiously charming to Gray, and said nothing to me that could have possibly made Gray suspicious. But every word he said was a double-edged sword swung straight at my head. By the time he finally left, I was a nervous shell of a girl, totally confused what had just happened.

His anger was almost palpable. I have to admit that my own resentment at his appearance was tinged with guilt and a sneaking suspicion that he had a right to be angry. He was mightily pissed at me for unplugging the phones, but I could have dealt with that. It was something else. From the second I opened the door, I had been consumed with guilt that Michael had found Gray in my apartment, in my bed. I bury my head in my hands. _What is wrong with me?_ I wasn't going against Section rules. Madeline knew that I was seeing him. No, it was Michael's reaction that was the problem.

He made me feel as though I was cheating on him.

Agitated by the thought, I throw the magazine down and jump to my feet. I had never felt frightened of Michael until tonight. His rage had a sexual undercurrent to it that is making me squirm even now, just thinking about it. _God, the way he looked at me. _I had found myself having to struggle against the urge to touch him, to feel him pressed against me. I was both grateful and resentful of Gray's presence in my kitchen. _Damn him._ The problem is that I already know what it feels like to kiss Michael. I know what it is like to have his hands on my body.

My face grows hot, and I put my hands to my flushed cheeks, trying not to think of that night. The night before I had planned to escape Section with Eric's help. The memory of my reaction to Michael that night still has the power to both embarrass and arouse me. We had kissed before during the Bauer mission, but this was different. Well, at least I thought it was. I didn't know until a few days later that Michael had taken it upon himself to stop me from running. I just wish he had chosen a method that didn't involve ripping out my heart.

"God!" I groan aloud, hating the fact that I can't put that night out of my mind. His fingernails scrapping sensuously down my palms, his hand on the small of my back, pressing my hips hard against his suddenly aroused body, his mouth achingly tender and yet urgent over mine. I hate him for making me so aware of him, for making me feel things for him that I don't know how to handle.

I rub my eyes tiredly, finally letting my thoughts wander, to drift into the dark recesses of unwanted truth that I have pushed right down inside me. When I found out that Michael's little romantic interlude with me was just a ploy to stop me running, I felt empty, unwanted. Undesirable. Michael didn't feel anything for me, apart from a mentor's innate responsibility for his material. It was all just to keep me alive. And then I meet Gray, this great guy who obviously likes me...very, very much. It's an amazing rush. I feel as though I'm just soaking up all the affection and caring he has to give, anything to help fill the sad hollow inside me.

I drop back down onto the couch, my head slumped in my hands in despair.

_Oh God, what can I do?_  I don't want to have these feelings for Michael. I don't even know _what_ I feel for him. He infuriates me and fascinates me at the same time, and I am constantly fighting against a sensual pull towards him that courses through my body whenever he is near me.

Just when I think I love Gray, that he is everything that I need in a man...BOOM. I see Michael and I'm abruptly reminded what it feels like to really want someone.

Someone that I can never have.

 

 

~*~

 

 

There's only four of us in the van tonight, but I feel crowded, stifled. My shoulders ache from the tension that is stiffening my whole body, angry resentment at Michael still skimming over my every thought.

I was nearly late for the briefing this morning, but I still found him by himself at the briefing table. It was as though he was expecting me and had cleared the room. Why did I even think that he would be sympathetic or understanding? _He wouldn't even look at me!_ Well, not when I was hissing in his ear, anyway. I could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye later when I was pretending to listen to Operations, in reality trying to ignore the fact that Michael's thigh was a little too close to mine under the table.

Michael's voice breaks into my unhappy thoughts, bringing me back to reality with a jolt.

"Ted, when you get the signal, send a burst of EMF and knock out the power." He pauses, and I can feel his eyes on me. "Nikita, you'll have four seconds until the auxiliary power kicks in."

I don't normally ask non-tactical questions, but he has been ignoring me for hours, and these are the first words he's spoken to me since telling me that wanting an hour to myself was too much to ask for. The rebellious streak that he is so good at bringing out in me raises its ugly head once again. "Is that enough time?"

His expression doesn't change. "It'll have to be."

_Great. Thanks for the reassurance, Michael._

 

~*~

 

I flatten the accelerator just a little bit more, cursing under my breath.

I hate him. I have just spent eight hours lying on a cold, hard floor in the one position. I had to hold back the urge to sneeze for two of them. Then God knows how many hours cramped in that damn van. My back is killing me, Gray and Casey were waiting at my apartment for me to have dinner with them and but I still had to bloody well debrief. _What is his problem?_ I tried to appeal to his better nature, but then I remembered. Michael doesn't have one.

At first, the apartment seems empty when I get home. Cold and unwelcoming. Then I see them, curled up together on the floor. My heart aches as I take in the gorgeous sight of a little girl and her daddy asleep on my living room floor. One look at the dining table sends my guilt into overdrive. It's beautiful. Candles, the good china...the lot.

Why does Gray put up with me?

I slip my jacket off and quietly put my bag down, not wanting to wake them. Easing myself down onto the couch, I can just reach Gray's ear to give him a soft kiss. He stirs slightly, but I can see that I might have to be a bit more forceful. I lean down to him again.

"Hi." I run my fingers through that amazing hair as he slowly comes awake, rolling onto his back and smiles up at me sleepily.

"So, what happened to your aunt?"

"She got dizzy." _Oh, good answer. Lucky for you he's still half asleep!_

He smiles up at me. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine." I can't stop staring at the little girl asleep next to him. She is beautiful, a halo of blonde curls framing a cherub's face. My heart aches at the sight of her. _Am I doing the right thing?_ I've only just laid eyes on her and already the thought of hurting her is tearing strips off my heart.

"There's a little person I want you to meet." He reaches down a hand and strokes her head, his touch so tender that it melts any last resistance my poor heart can hold out. "Meet Casey."

She is still sound asleep, so I join him in his whispering. "Hi, Casey." She stirs, but does not wake.

"She's a bit sleepy." He grins at me with laughter crinkling his eyes and I feel a rush of longing come over me. _Is this love?_ I don't know. All I know is that I want to try, I need to see where this goes.

I can make it work.

 

~*~

 

 

 

Madeline has called me in. I'm standing outside her office door, willing the butterflies in my stomach to settle down. Wiping my sweaty palms down my skirt, I try not to jump to any conclusions. She could just want to talk about the mission last night. Perhaps she wants to congratulate me on a job well done. _Yeah, and maybe she'll tell me that this was all a big mistake and I can pack up my things and go home. _I take a deep breath, and take that last step towards those intimidating wooden doors. She looks up as I come in, and gives me a non-committal smile.

"Thanks for coming in." I say nothing. It wasn't as though I had a choice in the matter. "From what I've been reading, it appears to have been a letter-perfect operation."

I recognise her technique from previous experience. Good news first, then the bad.

She comes out from behind her desk and walks in front of me to a couch and a few other chairs. A suitable place for a friendly chat. I follow slowly, fighting a growing urge to bolt.

"Sit down." I do as she tells me, a sense of dread growing more intense by the second. "Would you like some fresh fruit?" The fruit looks wonderful, but just looking at it makes my stomach to turn over. I could not eat a thing.

"No, thank you." Madeline looks me straight in the eye, her warm manner at odds with her next words.

"For every one of us in here, there comes a time when we get confused." I return her gaze steadily without speaking. I'm actually just concentrating pushing down the rising panic that's thickening in my chest.

"When we think we're living two separate lives. We tear ourselves apart trying to reconcile them."

Her words, coming so closely on the heels of the night before, are like someone pressing down on a bruise. I hide behind defiance. "I don't need any advice today, Madeline."

"But you do." She pauses, studying my face intently before continuing. "You see, there aren't two parts of your life anymore. This isn't a job. You can't go home at night and be someone else. You've heard it all before, but now it's _real._ Gray doesn't exist, not really."

_Oh God._ She's right, and I just don't want to know. _Why did I start this with him?_ There was a tiny nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me that it was a bad idea, but still I let him get closer and closer to me. And now there's Casey. Just one more thing to kick me in the gut and remind me of what I can never have for myself. I stare back at Madeline, not wanting to let her see how much her words are affecting me.

"Isn't it enough that I do what you ask?" I'm stalling. I know that this is only putting off the inevitable, the order that I know is coming. She continues, leaning forward slightly as if to drive her point home harder.

"You _will_ do what we ask. You miss my point. You can't hide who you are from the people that you care about."

I don't understand exactly what she is saying. Have I been told to stop seeing him or not? Trying not to sound like a complete idiot, I strive to get things straight in my head. "What are you telling me? That I can't see him? That I can't care about him?"

"One or the other." She pauses, her dark eyes unreadable. "The choice is yours."

It's a choice that I never wanted to have to make. I wanted to have more control over my life and now I suddenly have it. _Be careful what you wish for._

"Can I go now?" Madeline always seems to have the same effect on me. The sulky teenager that I thought I left behind long ago always comes charging out whenever she and I clash, making me sound like a petulant child. I hate it.

She nods, and I make my escape. Her voice stops me in my tracks, sending a cold rush of blood through my veins.

"The world outside these walls is an illusion."

I turn to look at her, and nearly have to look away from the concerned expression on her face, her eyes watching me almost worriedly. I can't bear kindness from her, not today. It's too much.

"It's not really there for us. We're ghosts."

I bite my lip hard, hoping the pain will somehow stop the rush of tears I can feel building behind my eyes. Ducking my head, I turn and leave Madeline without answering her.

This is not a life.

 

 

~*~

 

 

 

I like trains. I like trains even more when I have a drop-dead gorgeous male companion who has spent the last three hours trying to entice me to sit on his lap, kissing my neck and tickling me, much to the disgust of the two elderly ladies sharing our compartment.

I have no idea where we are or where we are going, and I don't care.

I attempt to extract intel from Gray in the backseat of the cab that picked us up from the train station, but he is resisting fairly well. "So, what's the occasion?"

"Do we need a reason to get away for a couple of days?" The look that he gives me nearly makes my knees knock. I have a pretty fair idea of what we'll be doing for the next few days. I can't wait.

The taxi finally pulls up in front of a lovely old hotel, and I can feel anticipation tingling in my belly. God, it's beautiful. I'm actually going to be staying here. Not on a mission, not planning the best way to take somebody out, but instead making love, drinking wine and sleeping late. I can't believe it.

We giggle and behave very inappropriately behind the porter's back as we follow him up to our room. I can't help myself. Section doesn't exist at this moment, only Gray and the warm shivering of my skin where he touches me.

The porter opens our door with a flourish, and I step regally past him into a lavish room, decorated in cream and gold. It's lovely, and I am trying very hard to resist the urge to kick off my shoes and jump on the huge bed. I hear Gray behind me, tipping the guy before the door finally clicks shut.

"Not bad." I turn my head to look at him, before continuing my inspection. "Not bad."

"Only not bad?" He feigns hurt feelings and I throw him a huge smile.

He makes me feel so good.

"So, you like it?"

I spin around at his question, to find him lying on the bed with his hand behind his head, watching me. God, he's so adorable, so eager to please me. I hold his eyes as I walk towards him, enjoying the play of emotions flickering over his face as I leap up onto the bed, straddling his hips between my feet as I stand over him. I put my hands on my hips and let my gaze melt into his.

"Like it?" He watches me intently, his face only relaxing when I beam at him, happiness bubbling through my whole body. "I _love_ it!"

I let my legs collapse under me, and suddenly his mouth is under mine, his hips pushing up against me. The hours of erotic teasing on the train has fanned my desire for him to a hot burst of lust, and I suddenly want him more than I ever have before.

The phone rings, and I curse silently. I try to resist, but I can't. I just have to answer it. Gray, however, has other ideas. His hands are everywhere, on my thighs, my breasts, my hands as I try to pick up the receiver. I finally manage to get a hand away from his grasp, consoling him with a lingering kiss as I reach over him.

"We're not here." I can hardly get the words out for laughing, Gray's fingers still digging into my side, tickling.

One word in my ear has the blood draining from my face.

_"Josephine."_

 

~*~

 

I sit bolt upright, my heart pounding a panicked staccato.

_No. This can't be happening._

I can't believe that Michael is at the other end of this phone line. I want to slam the receiver down hard and throw the damn phone out the window. I don't know how, but I manage to push any anger down and let my Section auto-pilot take over.

"Yep?" I plaster a bright smile on my face for Gray's benefit and desperately hope that I don't look as half as shocked as I feel.

Michael's voice continues impersonally in my ear. "There's a headset under the sink, on the left side."

_Oh God._ Gray is running his hands up my thighs, and I have Michael's lilting accent in my ear. This is too much, too confusing. I'm ignoring Gray's touch as best I can, but my body is reacting in spite of myself, heated arousal leaving me breathless.

"You'll get instructions when it's on. Go." I take a deep breath and prepare for the performance of my life.

"Okay! Thank you!" I can't help but think that this is the chirpiest reaction that Michael is ever going to get to one of his damn "Josephine" calls.

"Who is it?" Gray takes the phone from my suddenly nerveless fingers before sliding his hands back up my thighs, his fingers darting under the hem of my skirt to tease the sensitive skin there.

For a split second, my mind is blank. I cannot think of a single thing. _Damn you, Michael. Why?!_ Anger suddenly lends me a tiny bit of creativity.

"The front desk. They want to know when they, uh, can come up and turn the bed down."

Gray's hands move over my body, cupping my bottom and pressing me down against his hard arousal . I have to get into the bathroom, and I have to be there two minutes ago. I ignore the answering flutter in my groin and pull myself off his body slightly.

"You know, I'm feeling a little sticky, I want to take a shower. The train trip, you know.

Gray persists, his hands roaming my body, his mouth seeking mine urgently. _Did he even hear what I just said?_  I try again.

"Gray..."

"After." He heard me alright, he was just ignoring what I said.

" No, now." I fight the rising panic in my chest.

"Together?" A flash of irritation sweeps over me before I can stop it. _I just want to have a shower._

"No, alone. I'll be two minutes." I bend down to kiss him swiftly, irritation receding as guilt takes over.

Determined to have the last word, he clutches at me. "One minute."

I can tell by the distant look on his face that I've done it again. But I can't think about Gray's hurt feelings now. Not meeting his eyes, I push myself off him and jump off the bed before walking to the bathroom, forcing myself not to run. His voice follows me, and drifts into the bathroom after me, penetrating the closed door.

"Fifty-nine, fifty-eight..."

_Nothing like a bit of pressure to make a girl perform well._

I feel sick. Swallowing a wave of nausea, I force myself to think. _Focus, Nikita._ Shower. I turn the taps on full blast before groping blindly under the sink, secretly praying that there is no headset, that I won't be able to do whatever it is that Section wants me to do.

No such luck.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Michael's voice is in my head as soon as I have the headset in my ear. "There's a removable panel behind the blue towels. Tell me when you've opened it."

Blue towels. I pull them out, my hands shaking. I managed to get the panel out without too much effort and my heart misses a beat. There is an automatic rifle hidden in this hotel bathroom. In the room where Gray and I are staying. _What the f--k is going on here?_ I clamp down on a rising tide of helpless rage and force myself to speak to Michael.

"Okay, it's open."

"Pull out the unit and assemble." I do as he asks, wincing at the impersonal tone in his voice.

"Done."

His instructions continue, his voice flat and void of any emotion. "There are six micro-cartridges in the packet. Put in two tranq darts."

I keep following his orders, all the while struggling to keep my breathing under control. How I wish that this was a nightmare from which I could just wake up. But I know now that this nightmare will never be over, and I can never wake up from it.

"Go to the window and open it."

I step quickly to the window, undo the latch and push upwards. Nothing. I shake the window until it rattles in its frame, but to no avail. Panicked, I appeal to Michael. "It won't open."

His voice is suddenly harsh. "Now, Nikita."

I look around desperately before my eyes fall on the thick curtains. I twist the material around my hand. _Shit, double glazing!_ Gritting my teeth, I punch into the window with my swathed fist, flinching at the noise I'm making. I hear Gray outside the bathroom door.

"Everything all right?"

"Fine!" I can't believe how normal I sound.

I turn back to the window, speaking to Michael in the lowest tone I can manage. "Where's the target?"

"He'll be out in seconds." Michael's words are clipped, as though he is angry. There is a constrictive silence between us suddenly, a heavy tension that neither of us seem willing to disperse.

Gray's voice brings me back. "We should go down to the wharf for dinner."

I don't know how I do it, but I manage to answer him. Hell, I even sound enthusiastic. "That sounds great!"

I hate this. I hate lying to him. I also hate the fact that Michael is listening to this conversation. A slow burning anger flares. _How could he put me in this situation?_

"Be ready, they're coming." Michael's words are soft in my ear.

"Good. The art gallery here is supposed to be fantastic." I open my mouth to respond to Gray but I suddenly see movement, half a dozen people leaving the building opposite. I have no idea who the target is.

_Come on, Michael, bit of help here._ "Which one?" Gray must hear me say this, for he calls out again.

"What?" _Please Gray, please just wait a moment._

Michael's answer comes not a moment too soon. "Pink shirt. Hit him in the back of the shoulder."

"Hey, there's this architectural exhibit at the museum, which you might find boring, but..."

I raise the rifle and aim, surprised at my steady grip. _Bullseye._ The guy in the pink shirt goes down, and a cold sweat breaks out over my whole body. My hands start to tremble with delayed reaction as I bite out a brief confirm to Michael.

"Done."

"All right, you're done. Clean up." Interesting choice of words. I have never felt more like throwing myself into a scalding hot shower, anything to wash away the memory of the last five minutes.

I realised in a panic that Gray had asked me a question, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was. He speaks again, a note of impatience creeping into his voice.

"You decide. Whatever you want."

The rifle is slippery in my suddenly sweaty hands, and I am fumbling my way through disassembling it like a raw recruit. Gray's knock on the door has my heart in my throat.

"Nikita?" _Just two more minutes and this will be over._ I catch the thought, and blink back hot tears that threaten to spill over. An empty aching starts, deep down in my chest.

This will never be over.

 

~*~

 

 

I stalk through Section, suppressed rage sending my energy levels through the roof. I have just paid a visit to Michael's office and I now have to hit something, or perhaps even shoot something. I catch sight of Walter heading for his workstation, and walk swiftly over to him. A broad smile creases his face as he sees me approach, not seeming to notice that I'm practically shooting sparks.

"Were you impressed?"

Confused, I look at him. Impressed is not the word that I would have used. "Impressed?"

He returns my look with a patient grin. "With the dart gun in the hotel room. Handled just like a TRG-21, right?"

The gun could have been an 18th Century musket for all the notice I took of it at the time. I had been slightly distracted. I watch Walter for a moment, and come to a decision. I have to talk to someone about all this. God knows I can't talk to Madeline about it now, not after all my protests to the effect that I could handle the situation. And as for Michael...I pull my mind away from that train of thought. I take a deep breath as we reach his work area.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He leers at me playfully. "You can do anything you want to me, and it can last for more than a minute." Even in this wretched state, I have to fight back a smile. He never misses the opportunity.

"Have you ever been involved with anyone outside the Section?"

He wiggles his eyebrows rakishly at me. "Once a week, if I'm lucky."

"That's not what I meant." My voice cracks just a little as I speak, and I have to look down. I watch as the laughter leave his face as he finally comprehends what I am saying.

"Oh, jeez. Don't tell me." He is searching my face. "You didn't fall in love, did you, Nikita?"

I stay silent. I don't know the answer to that question yet. All I have is the fear that I will never have the chance to find out.

Walter sighs heavily. "That is not a good idea."

"Why not?" I _know_ why not. _I'm being torn apart inside, how's that for a good reason? _But it's all I have to cling to, all I have left of a normal life to hold on to.

Walter shakes his head at me. "I'll tell you why not. Paula Davenport." I look at him, slightly lost. He continues on. "Sweetest little speech pathologist you'd ever want to meet. The only girl I ever had that I didn't kick out as soon as the show was over."

I smile slightly in spite of my misery "Oh, that's romantic."

He rushes to defend himself. "No, you know what I mean. She had my number. I mean, I... I still think about her."

"So, what happened?" I know I shouldn't ask. No story in Section ever has a happy ending.

"Not that I was ever that big on honesty, but when you have to lie to someone every minute of every day..."

"What if I didn't? What if I told him the truth?" Even as I say, I know this can never happen.

"Oh, then, just take a gun and shoot him yourself." I want to put my hands over my ears, but he's not saying anything I didn't already know.

I look at him through the hopeless tears brimming in my eyes. "So, that's it?"

He looks at me with tender sympathy. "You can't dwell on what you can't have. Hey, look... if you lost an arm, you could spend the rest of your life depressed because you can't play the piano, or...or..." He's smiling at me now, trying to lift my mood. It's not working.

"Or?"

"Or, you could learn to sing. Do this guy a favour, Sugar." He leans in close to me, emphasising each word. "Learn....to.....sing."

He grins at me, but I see the sorrow behind his eyes. Sorrow for me.

 

~*~

 

 

 

It's so beautiful here. I still can't believe that I am doing all these normal things like having lunch with my boyfriend and his little girl, the sunlight streaming through the window warming me, inside and out. I watch the boats bobbing gently in the water, pleased at Gray's choice of restaurant. I could sit and watch the water all day. Normally watching the passing people enjoying a life that I can only dream of would sadden me. But not today. Right now, I'm having that life too.

"This is cool. Daddy never lets me eat French fries. He wants me to eat salad." She's so gorgeous. I could happily share my French fries with this little girl for the rest of my life. My heart drops. _Not going to happen._

"Your daddy is a very smart daddy." I smile down at her, industriously scrawling over the butcher's paper. "That's really pretty now, Casey. I like it." I bite the inside of my cheek, trying hard not to laugh. I really hope she doesn't want to discuss the finer points of her work of art, because I have no idea of what it's supposed to be.

"Where do you go when you go away?"

_Not fair, Gray. Not in front of Casey._ I ignore him as best I can, but my heart has started to race. I keep my face turned away from him and concentrate on Casey as best I can.

"What are we going to draw now?"

Gray is not going to let me off the hook this time. Secretly, I'm amazed that it has taken this long. "Where do you go?" I can't do this, not here.

"Shall we draw a big bumblebee?" Casey nods happily at my art director's suggestion and gets to work with the yellow crayon.

"Who's Aunt Josephine, Nikita?" Hearing that name on his lips sounds wrong, all wrong. I can't look at him, but I have to say something.

"Please, not now. Not now, please." _I can't get into this in front of Casey._ I squirm mentally, knowing that Casey doesn't care what we are talking about. She's just a very good excuse at the moment. I turn my attention back to the little girl, but Gray will not be brushed off quite so easily.

"Can you draw..."

"Whatever the truth is, it can't be worse than what I imagine."

I try to remind myself that this is just a normal boyfriend-girlfriend discussion, because that's what it is to him. My guilt is making me so much more evasive than I need to be, and now Gray is reading all the wrong things into this.

"I'm not seeing anybody else, Gray." _I'm so sorry. I can never, ever tell you what you want to know. Please forgive me._

A little voice breaks through the tension hovering over the table.

"This is for you." Casey hands me her finished masterpiece with a great deal of ceremony. This has never happened to me before, and I can't believe how absurdly pleased I am. I beam at her.

"You made this for me? This picture? It's very beautiful. I'm going to stick this beside my bed tonight and when I wake up in the morning, it's going to be sitting right there, so the first thing that I see when I open my eyes is this picture, and I'm going to think about your face." We smile at each other, but my smile fades slightly as Gray speaks again.

"Listen, we don't have to talk about it now, but we do have to talk about it."

I finally look him in the eye, a guilty conscience making me much shorter with him than he deserves.

"Yes, and we _will._"

I seek refuge in Casey once more. "It's very nice. Thank you."

Gray sighs, a low whisper of frustration. But he lets the subject drop, and for now, that's all I want. I want to pretend that Section doesn't exist, that I don't know anyone called Michael, that I really do have an Aunt Josephine who has dizzy spells, that I'm just a loving girlfriend who is going to baby-sit a darling little girl while her daddy goes back to work.

Gray smiles at his daughter, the look of adoration on his face almost making me want to weep. "Sweetheart? You'll go back with Nikita, okay?"

I watch him as he gets up to leave, wishing that I could just throw myself into his arms and blurt it all out, everything, all the dark secrets that are slowly killing me from the inside out. But I don't. I feel him standing behind my chair as he leans over to press a loving kiss to the top of Casey's head, then his hand gently stroking my hair.

"I'll see you both back at my office in a few hours, okay?"

We watch him leave, his daughter and I, before my gaze swings around once more to the boats moving gently with the water's ebb and flow. A longing to escape my life grips me suddenly, so intense that I find myself shaking with its impact. I close my eyes, damning the night I chose to walk down the wrong alleyway.

"Nikita?" My eyes fly open as I remember with a jolt that I am not alone. Casey is looking at my, her happiness at being with me so evident on her dear little face. I swallow the sudden lump in my throat and smile down at her.

"Let's go shopping."

 

~*~

 

 

 

Cold sickness churns in my stomach as I run through Section, no longer caring about the stares from other operatives. _Be here in twenty minutes_, Michael had said. Twenty minutes had come and gone two hours ago.

How could I have let this happen? _I'm such an idiot!_ Gray entrusted me with his precious daughter, I had her for less than an hour, and I lost her in a crowded shopping centre.

How could I have let that happen? I fling the question at myself again as I try to ignore the nervous sweat trickling down my back, intent on reaching Comm before I'm in any more trouble than I already am...as if that were possible.

_Michael rang you and you forgot all about watching over Casey_. No. I only looked away for a split second and she was gone.

I remember looking at that scared little face when I'd found her and squeezing her so tightly that she'd started to squirm. Relief had flooded through me, only to be quickly replaced by guilt and a flat certainty that my problems were only just beginning for the afternoon.

Finally reaching my destination, I pull up short as I catch sight of Michael standing in Comm, watching the monitors intently. His posture is ramrod straight, the tension apparent in every movement. _I can't turn back now,_ I tell myself with dismay as I force myself to walk swiftly to Michael's side. I know that he sees me, but he doesn't even look in my direction, stroking his chin thoughtfully as though he has all the time in the world, but his low, abrupt words are a pretty good indication that calm is the last thing he is feeling at the moment.

"Exterior's clean, let's move in. Shooters first. Everyone, but Price is expendable. Go."

Michael won't look at me. His mouth is a tight line, his face pinched with suppressed fury. _Oh my god. What have I done?_

I frantically search the monitors, trying to get a sense of what is happening on the mission. The mission that I should have been on. Judging from Michael's face, it's not going according to plan. I try to catch his eye again, but the sound of sudden rapid gunfire bursting from the monitors pulls me back. I can't stop myself from flinching at the noise, my nerves already rubbed raw by fear. My breath is coming in short gasps, my blood literally chilling as I watch the mission playing out, knowing that perhaps lives have been lost because of me. It's a feeling of guilt that pounds into my head, not letting go.

Through the rush of blood in my ears, I hear Madeline on the intercom, very politely requesting my presence in her office. I slowly walk away, fear clutching hard at my gut. Michael is motionless behind me, but as I throw him a desperate look, he turns, removing his headset before walking away from me.

His actions are glaringly clear.

He can't be there to save me this time.

 

~*~

 

 

Fear and guilt wrestle with frustrated anger as I stand here facing their censure. I never realised just how much this man hates me. But he does indeed hate me, disdain for me dripping from every word.

"You have cultivated an extremely dangerous situation, not only to yourself, but to the Section. If you think we just played an impersonal game of global espionage-" Operations pauses, frowning. "The fact is, what we do here is try to ensure the safety of every man, woman, and child in this so-called civilized world. There is such a thing as evil. It _exists._ It's an insidious force that trickles down to innocent people. Now when we fight that force, we help save those innocent people."

It's a noble speech that coming from anyone else, at any other time would have me applauding. But it doesn't. All I can see is that these people are determined to take away the one last glimmer of happiness that I might have in this hell that they have created for me.

Madeline's dark eyes never leave my face. "You're going to have to let him go." Stubbornness stiffens my spine, and I can feel my mental heels digging in.

_No. I won't do it. I will decide for myself, not because you have told me that I must._

"Well, no, I don't." I'm grateful for the sudden strength in my voice. "I can make it work."

Madeline's hollow gaze causes an embarrassed flush to steal across my chest and up my neck. I try again, avoiding Operation's livid stare that is almost burning into my flesh.

"I _can._"

Madeline only looks at me, her face unreadable. "I'm sorry, Nikita."

I've been dismissed. They both turn away from me slightly, obviously satisfied that I have been dealt with, and that they can get on with more important things.

I've never felt so alone.

"You don't own my soul. I'm not afraid to die."

They both stop and stare at me, as though they are surprised that I am still in the room. I glare back at them, before turning on my heel and giving them my back. I wrap my arms around my suddenly cold body as I race through Section, needing to get out from inside these walls so badly I can hardly breathe.

I try to stop it, but I can't. Their words replay inside my head, again and again. I shake my head as though I can shake loose the memory of how they _looked_ at me just now. It wasn't the anger on Operations' face. I've gotten pretty used to that by now.

It was the pity I saw in Madeline's eyes that is now slowly tearing a hole in my heart.

 

~*~

 

 

I feel much braver away from Section. Now, gazing out my terrace doors, I don't care what they say. I meant what I told them...I can make this work. I will _make_ it work. Gray is coming over and we are going out to dinner. I need to see him, to have his solid warmth against me. I close my eyes. I won't let my feelings for him be tainted by Section.

_I won't._

I hear the key rattle in the lock, and Gray walks in slowly, almost distracted. I feel a rush of warmth in my chest, Section retreating slightly from my thoughts at the sight of him. I walk towards him, needing for him to hold me. But he only absent-mindedly brushes my lips with his before turning and heading for the telephone.

"Uh, sorry, I'm late. The weirdest thing happened. I'm crossing the street and a car comes out of nowhere, almost runs me down."

His flustered words crash over me, a sudden cold shiver invading my very bones. _No. It's not possible._ I struggle to keep calm, but a horrible certainty is tightening my chest, and I can no longer deny what I've known all along.

_They will not let me be with him._

Gray's voice comes to me through a fog of agonised disbelief.

"It was like he was trying to hit me. I didn't get the license number, but I think I should call the police anyway."

I can't believe that it has come to this. Hurting Gray is the last thing in the world that I want to do, and yet I choose this path. Madeline tried to tell me, but I didn't want to know.

How can I hurt him? Weary defeat comes over me. I have no choice. I have to hurt him to save his life, wound him so badly that he will walk away from me forever. Sucking the air into my lungs, I turn and walk over to him and hang up the phone.

"We've gotta talk." I don't know if I can do this, but I have to. Someone has just sent me a message that I can't afford to ignore._Oh Gray...please forgive me._

"Okay. What?"

I can't look at him, so I turn my back on his face, so open and honest. I've done nothing but lie to him since the beginning. Anger and self-hatred curl in my belly and I reach out for them gratefully, gripping onto them tightly. Disgust swells up inside me and suddenly it's easy to be angry and full of loathing.

Loathing for myself, not for Gray. But this is something I can never tell him. He is going to walk away from me thinking that everything that we've had together is a lie, and it's breaking my heart.

"I'm not who you think I am."

"Okay, we talked about this before. Sometimes I don't know what to think, but, uh... I love you."

_Oh god._ My heart feels like it's shattering into a thousand tiny pieces, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. And there's nothing I can do to ever make this right.

"Don't _say_ that! I..." My true feelings burst through before I swallow the words, dropping a veil of indifference over my emotions like a mask.

I can hear him walking closer to me, and clench my hands so hard that my nails dig into my palms. _Please Gray, please don't touch me._

"Why not?"

I have to say this now, while he is behind me. If I have to look at him..."It's not going to work. Because...I don't love _you._"

_I'm so sorry. Please forgive me._

"Right." The word comes out on a hesitant laugh. He doesn't believe me. He comes to me then, standing in front of me so that I can no longer avoid looking at him. I look into his eyes, and prepare to rip his love for me to shreds.

"I don't." I see the doubt begin to seep into his eyes. "You don't know me." He hesitates, unsure of what to say. I slip inside his defenses, hating myself more and more with every word that I say.

"You don't know anything about me." _I'm so sorry._

"Nobody asked you to be perfect." His reply makes my pain even worse, but I have to keep going. The quicker the blow, the sooner he can start to forget me. I swallow an acrid lump in my throat, clenching my fists to stop my hands from shaking.

"Gray, I don't have time for you anymore." I pause, letting the icy words drip over him. "Or Casey." He raises his head to look at me now, confused sadness filling his face.

"What happened to you?" His unhappiness is more than I can stand, and I know that I won't be able to keep it together for a minute longer. I have to get him out of here now. _Oh, Gray...._

I give him a sarcastic smile, my heart collapsing in pain as a little bit more of myself dies quietly inside me. "Get out."

I have to get away from him before I burst into tears. Not giving him a chance to reply, I leave him standing alone and seek refuge in my bedroom. _Who am I kidding?_ There is no refuge for me, for my peace of mind. Not any more. I press my hot forehead against the cool plaster wall of my room, and listen in despair as the only man who has ever loved me tosses his key on my kitchen bench angrily and walks out of my life forever.

The pain almost unbearable, I slump against the wall, finally letting the tears come. I slide down the wall, violently sobs wracking my body as I hear the door close behind him.

Why can't they just kill me instead? This living hell is too much for one person to bear alone. All I wanted was to be close to someone...I don't understand how that could be wrong.

I can't _do_ this any more.

 

 

~*~

 

Is he here?" I throw the question at Birkoff as I steam past Comm, not particularly caring about the answer.

"Yeah, but there's a mission being profiled at the moment...Nikita!" His voice disappears behind me as I fling open Michael's door without knocking. I'm not in the mood for niceties today.

He is sitting at his desk, but looks up at me as I stomp into his office. He looks as though he was expecting me as I hold my gun up to his face before tossing it on the desk in front of him.

"I don't want it any more. Cancel me. I can't live like this. I'm done." I'm amazed I've gotten the words out. I can't stop the tears from spilling down my face, and a sudden urge to flee before he sees me cry overcomes me. I turn away from him, but an odd pleading note in his voice stops me.

"Nikita." It holds me only for a moment, before I head for the door. Michael gets there first though, closing it quickly. The look of almost tender concern on his usually shuttered face surprises me into giving vent to my confused thoughts.

"This place, the Section - is_ full of lies_! They talk about all the innocent people they save, well, what about the innocent people we hurt! Like the four-year-old girls just wondering why they've been abandoned?" Even as I say this, I know that there isn't a damn thing he can do. I did this to myself, to Gray. My life is not of Michael's doing. But I need to scream my pain out, and for once he is a captive audience.

He walks over to me slowly, as though I'm a wild beast he's not sure can be trusted not to attack him. His voice is soothing, but his words are not. "You were warned. You should have never gotten involved."

"You still believe in free will." He is close to me now, his eyes searching mine. "In here, there's no such thing."

_Don't cry. Be angry._

"You keep telling me that, Michael, but I don't believe you any more." I'm just dying inside and the urge to wound him is overwhelming. I lean in close to him, registering through the fog of despair his body tensing, the slight change in his breathing. I see hesitation in his eyes and I push my way in, sensing a chink in that impenetrable wall of silent isolation.

"You couldn't handle it, could you?"

Guilt and something else, something indefinable, flash in his eyes before he looks away from me. Turning away, he starts to walk around his desk. He will not look at me. Confused by what I've just seen in his face but unable to stop myself, I keep throwing accusations at him.

"You got jealous of _Gray_." My voice sounds harsh and ugly in my ears. Michael still has his back to me, shutting me out. Frustrated longing and an angry helplessness make me reckless. I follow him, desperately trying to get a reaction from him. Some emotion - anything.

"Because I love _him_...and not _you._" I swallow the last word as he spins on his heel, his face suddenly only a breath away from mine. His eyes roam my face, caressing and burning at the same time. He is so close to me that I can see the darker flecks in his light eyes that never leave mine. His lips are a whisper away from mine, and I flush as I feel my body reacting to his closeness, my nipples hardening as I remember the feel of that mouth on mine.

"You don't love me?" He shoots the words at me through tight lips. I stare at him, heat suffusing my body as the implication of his question hits home. Is it a question or a challenge? There is a note of taunting disbelief in his words and I suddenly feel as though I can't get enough air into my lungs. I want to run, but I can't look away from the erotic shimmer in his eyes, darkened with sudden desire. I can hardly breath.

_You don't love me._

He is watching me, his chest rising and falling rapidly with emotions that I am suddenly terrified of.

_My God._ My own pulse is roaring in my ears as just one thought comes screaming into my mind, my heart, a twisted banshee of a truth, wailing, demanding to be heard.

I do.

The only sound in the room is our breathing. I can't deal with this now, can't handle the way Michael is looking at me, watching me with a furious hunger that is making my head swim. I could just sink into him so easily, could give into the almost overpowering sensual drag that pulls me towards him constantly. But I can't. I jerk away from him, panicked, before gathering up the tatters of my anger. Going on the attack again suddenly seems much safer than having to face what has just passed between us.

"Oh, you came up with a brilliant idea...almost kill Gray." I watch him through the tears in my own, but his eyes are giving away nothing. "Come on, Michael, at least have the decency to admit it!"

More than anything, I want him to deny it.

"Yes, it was my idea."

For a split second, I feel as though I've been winded. Torn between being amazed that he has just been totally honest with me and wanting to launch at him with my fists, I blurt out a harsh judgment, wanting to hurt him.

You're sick."

I'm so confused, about Gray, about Michael. All mixed up about what I am feeling. I have to get away from him, but his voice holds me in place.

"I only proposed it after I heard theirs."

His words hit me in the chest like a sledgehammer. I know that I shouldn't be shocked, but I am. I can feel the blood drain from my face as I turn to stare at him, knowing that my eyes are as hollow as my heart.

They wanted to kill him."

_No. This isn't happening. They wouldn't have..._Even as the thought brushes stubbornly through my mind, I know that Michael is telling me the truth. Of course they would have.

A sense of total defeat is making it hard to move, so I don't try. As though from a great distance I hear Michael's voice coming closer.

"Gray will heal, his daughter will grow up...and they will have the life they deserve."

The worst part is that I know he is right, but it just hurts so much. I think of Casey's face, smiling at me in complete trust and bow my head, a sense of shame settling over me. I can feel Michael standing next to me, the warmth from his body causing a strange shiver to tickle down my back.

_I can't do this any more._. I try to get more air into my lungs, concentrating on not blubbing like a total idiot in front of him. My anger has seeped away, leaving only despair and a sadness so intense that I can feel myself withering away inside.

He's so close to me now, I can smell the spicy scent of his hair and skin. His hand brushes mine quickly before I feel cold metal in his hand.

_I can't. I won't._

Michael's hand is on my elbow, his circling thumb sending a warm flush up the skin of my arm. I can feel my gun in his hand, can feel it under my reluctant fingers. The illusion of choice is a seductive one, but I know the truth.

Take the gun and live, at least for today.

Don't take the gun and don't live past today.

I let my fingers close around the heavy weapon, a sense of inevitability soaking through my bravado. Michael is almost pushing the gun into my grasp. I snatch it from his open palm as a sad bitterness floods me. Gun in hand, I lift my heavy eyes to find him watching me, an odd look of relief on his face. His expression changes under my scrutiny, his features blanketing into their usual mask of indifference, but not before I see a blaze of longing in his eyes.

His strained question is still between us, the air practically humming with unspoken emotion. Something has changed here, and I am suddenly afraid of being with him. I'm not frightened of Michael, but of myself. _I have to get out of here._

He follows me close behind as I go towards the door. Something makes me turn back to face him as I hold the door open. He is so close to me, his gaze darting over my face, resting disturbingly on my suddenly dry mouth before travelling slowly back up to meet my eyes. Some perverse urge to test him takes hold of me, and I move closer to him, recklessly, watching his pupils dilate and his lips part almost imperceptivity. Fear twitches in my belly again and I pull back slowly, still unable to tear my eyes from his intense gaze.

One more step and I'm out the door and it is being shut hard behind me with more than a little force. I'm sucking air into my lungs as though I've just run a marathon, and for a moment I stand outside Michael's office, almost in a daze.

_You don't love me._

_I never answered him,_ I argue with myself. I shut my eyes tightly, half of me wishing that I could take back the last ten minutes of my life. As for the other half of me...I can't deny it any longer, this dark unwelcome truth that has struggled free after being buried for so long.

I didn't have to answer him. Michael wasn't really asking a question. After all, there's no need to ask a question when you already know the answer.

I look around me, at this place, this hell that has become my home, this dysfunctional 'family' group that is all I have left in this life. Walking slowly away from Michael's door, I listen to the sound of my boots scuffing on the hard floor wondering, not for the first time, how a place packed with human bodies can always seem so empty.

Empty. _Just like me._ I brush my hand angrily over my eyes, feeling the tightness of dried tears on my skin. I stare at my gun, so heavy in my hand, with resentment.

Michael was right about one thing. Gray _will_ heal.

I'm just not too sure about me.

 

~*~


	3. Michael

~*~

 

I know that she is home. I know who she is with, yet I cannot help myself. I could have easily have sent someone else to check on her. Why am I doing this?

The door finally opens and she is there, barely opening the door enough for me to see her.

My God. This is how she appears in my dreams, the dreams that have me twisting alone in my sheets night after night. Her blonde hair is mussed, her beautiful face is flushed, her lips swollen. There is a faint rash of whisker burn along her jawline, and jealousy suddenly sears my gut.

"Who is it?" I hear his voice from her room. Her bedroom.

"It's...uh..." She looks at me, seemingly frozen.

"It's your cousin Michael." My heart lurches as I hear my own words. Claiming kinship when I have no right to do so.

"This is not a good time, Michael!" She hisses the words at me.

"Since when do you decide when it is a good time?" My voice is calm, belying the fact that I am seething inside.

This was a mistake. I am slowly taking in her appearance. The man's shirt is obviously Gray's. She is naked under the shirt, and the endless legs are bare. I have felt those legs around my waist, that lush mouth open and hungry beneath my own. It was part of a mission profile, but it makes it a no less potent memory in my mind.

Gray, however, is not a mission to her. She is with him of her own free will.

I push open the door hard, my eyes never leaving hers. This is a battle of wills that she is not going to win tonight. She is angry, defensive. I pull her to me before she can step away.

"I missed you!" The irony of my words is not lost on her. Her eyes flash at me in mute appeal. I ignore them.

Taking her face in my hands, I try to ignore the heady scent of her, the heat of her body, the smoothness of her skin beneath my fingers. Her mouth is so close to mine that all I would have to do is turn my head slightly and our lips would meet. Almost as though she can read the intent in my eyes, she jerks her head to one side swiftly, my lips grazing her cheek instead. Her skin is warm under my mouth, and I linger over the kiss to her other cheek. I manage to smile, but happiness is an emotion that I am far from feeling at this point in time.

Not that long ago, I stood outside this same door, waiting to seduce her into staying in Section. I have told myself many times since that it was the only way to keep her alive. I am lying. I could have just gone to her, told her the truth about Eric, that she would never make it away from Section, that his plan would fail. Instead, I chose a private mission profile that wounded her, completely unnerved me and widened the gulf between us to a canyon of mistrust and hurt. I am ashamed to admit that I was perversely pleased by the fact that I was able to get so close to her so easily. More disturbing is the constant hollow memory of how any pretence that I was only doing my job dissolved at the first touch of her mouth on mine. When the prearranged call came in, I had to fight my way back to reality through a fog of a desire so potent it left me shaking inside.

Seeing her tonight I wish, not for the first time, that I did not know how it felt to kiss her, to feel her lips part easily under mine, to feel her tense body relax into mine as I pull her hard against me.

Gray. He appears at the top of the stairs, carrying an empty wine bottle and glasses. Drinking wine in bed together. Such a simple pleasure, one that I will never be able to enjoy with her. I stroll over to him, having to remind myself yet again that he is an innocent in this situation. The urge to smash one of those bottles against his head is getting stronger by the second.

"You must be Gray". My voice sounds false in my own ears, and I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves. "Pleased to meet you". This would have to be one of the more surreal situations that I have been in for a while.

He looks at me, confused as to who I am, and what I am doing there. I manage to paste a smile onto my face as he studies me.

"Who are you?" Not perhaps the most polite way of phrasing the question, but he does have a point. Of all people, I can understand the subtle hostility beneath the banal query. I know the question that he really wants to ask. Who are you to her?

Nikita hesitates for only a second, before turning to him with a beaming smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"This is my cousin, Michael." There is an unspoken challenge in her words, inaudible to him but very clear to me. _This is your story... you do the talking._

"I feel like I know you already. You're all Nikita talks about these days." I realise that I will be paying the price for this scene later. I can sense her anger building, but there is nothing she can say to me here, not in front of Gray.

"Really?"

I am rapidly running out of small talk. A loud beep from the microwave saves me the trouble of having to think of any more vapid noises to make at this man.

"Oh, I'll get that." I watch him dart into the kitchen, and bite back a bitter sigh. _He cooks too. Great._

 

_~*~_

 

 

When Gray moves through to the kitchen, I see the panic cross her face. She does not want to be alone with me. I scan her apartment out of force-of-habit, taking a deep breath before turning around to face her. Our eyes meet.

"I'm sorry to bust in." I am sorry, but not in a way that I can ever tell her. I am sorry that I had to see this, to see her happy with someone else. I am sorry for _myself_, sorry that I can never be the one here with her. "I tried to call, but, uh, I couldn't get through."

The guilt flashes briefly in her eyes, but she only smiles an innocent smile at me. I realise that she is standing in front of her phone. Hiding it.  Holding her gaze with mine, I walk slowly towards her. If Gray was not five feet away, would I be able to stop myself pushing her up against that wall? Ripping the shirt from her body and kissing her hard until the only name that she could remember was mine? Lust and anger are a dangerous combination. I take a deep breath and focus on her face.

She retreats as I advance, her back now up against the sideboard. I reach around her to examine the phone. The cord has been pulled out of the wall. My arm brushes against hers and I am startled anew by my instant response, desire tightening my body. I can smell her perfume and feel her heat. As though she has just gotten out of a warm bed. I clamp down hard on the thought and draw her attention back to the telephone.

"Look, it's disconnected." Her eyes widen slightly, although I'm only telling her something she already knows. "I wonder how that happened?"  I reach around her, careful to avoid touching her again and plug the phone back in. It isn't a question I expect an answer to, so I am surprised when she actually replies.

"I unplugged it." Her tone is casual, as befitting our sudden status as cousins.

"And your cell phone?" I am growing impatient with her, with myself.

"It's broken." As she says these words, she throws a happy smile at Gray, drawing him back into the conversation. _Damn her._

His hesitant voice cuts through the air humming between us. I am not surprised that he has picked up on the tension, even though he cannot quite work out the cause of it.

"Uh, Michael? Glass of wine?"

I know that accepting a drink is the last thing that she wants me to do. Perversely, I do just that. "Thank you." The continued effort of smiling and being pleasant to him is surprisingly tiring. Strange how a person can withstand hours of torture and yet stumble and fall in the undeniable face of jealousy.

Nikita follows me as I walk over to stand next to Gray. I can feel her eyes on my back. She only manages a smile when he turns to her.

"Nikita, you never mentioned you had a cousin living in town." There is an undercurrent in his voice. Ah. The secrets and half-explanations have already begun, and this is just one more. He obviously does not like not being kept in the dark.

I am almost proud of her as she replies in a breezy tone, her voice totally natural as she answers him.

"Oh, Michael works away a lot. He's rarely ever here." It is not really an answer, merely an evasion. He turns to me though, apparently satisfied by her reply.

"What do you do?" A natural enough question, but I get the feeling that he is testing me.

She cuts her eyes at me, her meaning quite plain. _Yes Michael, what do you do?_

"Buy art for galleries." I hand one of my many business cards to him, catching her eye as I do so. The anger that she is being forced to hide in front of him darts quickly at me. The fatuous smile plastered on my face disappears under her unhappy gaze. Our eyes hold for a moment before she looks away, but not before a familiar twinge of guilt twists my gut. The worst thing is that I know very well that this is will not be the last time that I cause her pain.

Gray continues on, oblivious to the private drama being played out in front of him.

"You know what's weird? We were just talking about meeting family today."

His words cause an empty ache in my chest. Not just for me, but for her. This will not be allowed to continue. This is not a life that she can ever have. I know that she will not believe it until she is shocked into it. I do not want to be the one to have to do it. I hear her intake of breath, as though gathering her thoughts before she meets my eyes.

"So, Michael. Must be something important to drag you all the way over here?"

I let my brow furrow, allowing concern to bloom across my face. "Yeah, it's your Aunt Josephine. She's still not doing well. So, I told her you'd drop by in the morning."

I watch her, seeing her whole body stiffen as I utter that one word._ Josephine._ A reminder of another life that has no place in this bright little kitchen tonight, here with this man who clearly adores her.

Just as I have no place here this evening.

"Fine." She hardly gives me a chance to finish my sentence. Her eyes, while still filled with anger, are now pleading for mercy. _Please go. Please leave._ As much as I understand it, it cuts me to the quick.

"Good." She nods at me now, her impatience for me to be gone barely concealed. I smile at her, a deliberate curling of the mouth that I know will infuriate her.

"Welcome to the family, Gray." I raise my glass to him, knowing full well that there will be no happy endings where this family is concerned.

"Cheers." He accepts the toast happily enough, clicking his glass against mine. As he drinks, my gaze meets hers again. Judging from the look in her eyes, I will not have much to look forward to at our next meeting.

 

~*~

 

The smooth surface of the briefing table is cool beneath my fingers, but nothing can soothe my heated thoughts this morning. Why did I go there last night? I knew that Gray would be with her. It was as though I needed to test myself, to prove to myself that it would not affect me.

I failed miserably. One look at her and I was a mess, although she will never know it. I thought that nothing could be worse than trailing her that night five weeks ago, knowing full well that she was going to meet Gray and yet unable to stop myself from following. I close my eyes briefly, remembering all too vividly the aching emptiness that welled up inside me as I stood there, watching him open the door to her, the light spilling out to illuminate her light hair to a shining gold. I was too far away to hear their words, but the body language said it all. She wanted to be with him. In that instant, I watched her slip beyond of my reach, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Sitting here now, I sense her presence long before I see her, feel her helpless rage long before she is next to me. Thankfully we will be alone for what I know will not be pleasant, for either of us.

She leans forward so that her head is next to mine, a sudden intimacy that can never begin to assuage my need to be near her. Her lips are next to my ear, her breath caressing my face. I have to fight the urge to turn my head towards her, to press my lips against her warm cheek. The words are whispered, but the anguish in her voice is apparent.

"What gives you the right to barge in on my life?"

I cannot meet her eyes, cannot speak to her of the tangled fusion of emotions that have me in their grip. The clean scent of her hair fills my nostrils and I clutch for something tangible.

Section protocol.

"You don't unplug the phone. Ever". I speak softly, but out of the corner of my eye, I see her flinch at my words.

I can hear the hopelessness in her voice. "All I wanted was one hour to myself! Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes." I bite the word out, turning to her at last, but she has already pulled away from me and will not meet my eyes. She takes the seat next to me as other operatives start to file into the briefing room. Her refusal to look at me allows me to study her at my leisure. The blonde hair is piled on top of her head in a hasty knot, her pale face shows no signs of make-up. She looks like she just rolled out of bed. A hot flash of jealousy pierces my thoughts, and I strive to banish thoughts of her with Gray.

I am unsuccessful. Operations begins the briefing, but I am only hearing every other word. The memory of how she looked when she opened her door last night is burnt into my mind. Her appearance was that of someone who had been made love to, very thoroughly. It is a violation of Section protocol, grounds for cancellation, and a betrayal of many others in my life, but there is a brutal truth that I am suddenly being forced to confront.

I want to be the one who makes her look like that.

 

~*~

 

Madeline has already spoken to me about Nikita's deepening involvement with Gray. I replay our conversation in my head now as I finalise the profile for Nikita's next mission.

"Sooner or later she will, whether it's with Gray or someone else. And when that situation happens, will you be able to handle it?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"That's something only you can answer."

I admitted nothing of my feelings to her. There was no need. Someone with far less profiling experience than Madeline would have noticed that my feelings towards Nikita had far surpassed that of the usual mentor-trainee relationship long ago.

How then, does Nikita not notice?

 

~*~

 

She is angry with me

yet again. I ordered her to debrief after the latest mission there and then, although it was after midnight, and she could have just as easily debriefed in the morning as she requested. Exhaustion was etched on her pale face, understandably so. She had spent the previous night lying on a cold, hard floor, unable to move. I no longer pretend to be an honourable man. I knew why she was in a hurry, who she was hurrying to. I wanted to keep her with me as long as I could. The knowledge that she wanted to escape Section, if only for one night, to be with Gray, was not a surprise. Harder to deal with is the realisation that I have also come to represent Section to her.

Madeline has already warned her to end the relationship, but knowing Nikita as I do, her caution would have fallen on very deaf ears. I tell myself that making things difficult for her will help her to understand that this cannot go on. She cannot possibly hope to continue this romance with Gray, befriending his daughter, becoming more and more entangled in their lives until there is no way out. I am only concerned with keeping her safe.

I look into myself, into the dark possessive fear that squeezes my heart. I am lying to myself.

I want him gone.

 

~*~

 

I can't concentrate on the figures before me. I know that she has arrived in Section, and that I will soon be faced with the emotional fall-out from her latest mission. I cannot forget how her voice changed when she answered the hotel room telephone only to hear my voice. The happy greeting dissolved into shocked silence. I had closed my eyes, silently asking her forgiveness for what I was about to demand of her. The dial tone was abrupt, and I cursed once more the fact that in doing my job, I had only put a new face on her anger. My own.

When she finally appears in my doorway, I do not acknowledge her presence, although every nerve in my body is tingling with awareness. When she speaks, the calmness of her voice surprises me, although I am careful not to let it show.

"Hi, Michael."

"Hello." I continue to key in figures that I quickly realise I will have to go over again when she is gone. I have no idea of what I am working on.

There is a pause, then she continues in an almost sweet tone of voice. "Is there any reason you had to involve Gray in our business?"

My guilt makes me defensive. I am guilty on three counts. I took advantage of her relationship with Gray to suit Section's ends. I wanted to drive home to her the inescapable truth that she could not split her life in two. I did not think twice about doing it. Retreating behind standard Section-speak, I give her a non-committal answer.

"There is a reason for everything we do." I finally look up at her. Her blue eyes are guileless, but I sense an inner rage that she is struggling to keep under control. "Is there a problem?" Even as I ask, I know that the question is pointless. She will not confide in me. This has become a personal battle between us, and she will not give me the slightest satisfaction by admitting that her relationship with Gray is being affected by the Section.

She smiles at me, a smile full of false bravado that does not meet her eyes. "No. Nothing I can't handle."

Still smiling, she shrugs her shoulders at me almost imperceptivity, and leaves my office.

Leaving me no closer to getting her out of the mess that she has entangled herself in. She does not want my help. I am no longer even sure that I can help.

 

 

~*~

 

 

She has not arrived.

I called her in two hours ago, and requested her presence in twenty minutes. I have delayed the loading of the mission as long as I dare without attracting attention from either Operations or Madeline, but time has run out.

I am ready to kill Valery myself. His whining voice is grating on my already raw nerves, although I have to admit he is quite right to feel anxious.

"Where's the girl? I can't go in without the girl." I look at him. His constant references to Nikita as 'the girl' are beginning to infuriate me. As though she is just a prop to keep him alive.

Walter is walking towards me. I already know the answer to the question that I am going to ask by the grim look on his face, but I ask it nevertheless.

"Have you heard from Nikita?"

He looks at me. We both know what I am really asking. How much longer can we cover for her?

He answers me reluctantly. "Not yet."

Dread churns my stomach. I check my watch. We cannot wait for her any longer.

"We go without her."

Walter nods at me. I see my own apprehension mirrored in his face.

Valery continues his whining as he is led away by two members of my team. "Bad idea. Everybody knows I'm superstitious. I take a girl all the time to the buys."

I manage to resist the urge to snap his neck and follow them towards the door of van access. "Forget it. It's going to go down too fast to matter."

His insistent words drift back to me as we move through the door, pointing out something I know only too well. "It's your party. Price is going to know something's wrong."

"It won't matter. He'll be surrounded." I wonder just who I am trying to convince.

Valery allows himself one more complaint. "Just remember, I'm not the target."

The bravado drains from his face as I turn to stare at him. Perhaps he is only just realising that Madeline is not the only person he should fear. A perverse impulse to make him squirm comes over me, and I watch his face pale as he registers my one word answer.

"Duck."

 

~*~

 

 

The mission does not go as well as it could have gone. This is a slight understatement.

A flash of blonde hair catches my eye. She is finally here.

I cannot look at her. I am angry beyond belief. I force my attention back to the matter at hand. She has just handed them the perfect ammunition, the perfect reason to cancel her. All because of her stubborn refusal to accept a harsh reality. We do not exist in the outside world.

"Exterior's clean. Let's move in. Shooters first. Everyone but Price is expendable. Go." My voice sounds clipped and angry, even to my own ears.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye. She is breathing heavily, her eyes fixed on the monitors above our heads. She flinches at the sound of gunfire, and I see guilt warring with fear in her pale face. As we reach closure on the mission, a heavy silence falls over Comm. Madeline's voice on the intercom breaks into my churning thoughts.

"Nikita. My office now, please." It is almost a polite request, but I know better. Nikita moves slowly, her eyes catching mine as she passes. I have to turn away from the beseeching look she throws at me. I cannot help her, and it is tearing me apart.

 

~*~

 

 

I should not be shocked at what I am hearing. God knows, I have seen and heard too much in this office in the past, but I still cannot quell the sick disbelief clutching at my gut.

"It's the only option we have left. She is not going to end the relationship willingly." The soft lilting tone of Madeline's voice is an odd contrast to what she is suggesting. Section-sanctioned murder.

"Is that really necessary?" I strive to keep any sign of my conflicting emotions from my voice, my eyes.

"Nikita knew the dangers of becoming involved with someone from the outside. God knows, she was warned enough times. Even after the potential disaster she caused with the Valery mission, she has continued down this path. How many times would you have us bend the rules for her, Michael?"

Operations' pale eyes bore into mine, challenging me to defy him. I stay silent, returning his gaze with a calm I am far from feeling. He turns away. I have obviously been dismissed.

This will finish her. I cannot let them do this.

"I believe that killing Gray will impact unfavourably on Nikita's performance as an operative." They turn to look at me, Operations impatient, Madeline seemingly curious. I take a silent breath and prepare to bargain for the life of a man whom I have wished dead a hundred times.

"I would suggest a different course of action."

 

~*~

 

 

She came to me. I knew she would. She slammed into my office, tears streaming down her face, brandishing her weapon like it was a toy. Her eyes were red, her hair slightly messy.

She took my breath away.

I watch as she throws the gun onto my desk, my heart breaking for her, my face showing nothing of my thoughts.

Her voice is low and full of pain. "I don't want it any more. Cancel me. I can't live like this. I'm done."

She whirls around to go. I cannot let her leave like this.

"Nikita..."

She stops, as though she was expecting me to call her back, as though she needed me to do it. She waits motionless as I stand and brush past her to shut the door. I am thankful that she at least waits until the door is shut before she begins to shout. I let her do it. The anger and the hurt will have to come out sometime. Far better that it be here now with me, than during a session with Madeline, or in the middle of a mission under Operations' watchful eye.

"This place, the Section... is full of lies! They talk about all the innocent people they save! Well, what about the innocent people we hurt?" It is obvious where she is going with this. She is struggling with guilt as much as she is anger. "Like the four-year-old girls just wondering why they've been abandoned?"

It is hard to find the words to comfort her, because there are none. I can only remind her of what she has known all along, but would not let herself believe. "You were warned. You should have never gotten involved. You still believe in free will." I move closer to her, trying to gauge the effect of my words on her. She will not give me her eyes, her breathing ragged with emotion.  "In here, there's no such thing."

She comes alive, her face twisted with grief.  "You keep telling me that, Michael, but I don't believe you any more." She looks me straight in the eye. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her, passionate with rage. She softly mocks me, coming closer as she speaks. "You couldn't handle it, could you Michael?"

She is closer to the truth than she will ever know. I step away from her, the blood suddenly pounding in my ears. I will not be able to keep a rein on my tumultuous feelings much longer with her being so close. I turn my back on her, but her taunting voice follows me, allowing me no relief. "You got jealous of _Gray._" Her mocking tone slides beneath my skin like a barb. "Because I love _him_ and not _you_."

_Enough._ Anger sharpening my thoughts, I turn on my heel, bringing us suddenly face to face. A tangled rush of emotions, anger, jealousy and need, rise up in my chest and force their way out.  "You don't _love_ me?" The words are out before I can stop them. The chill of shock envelops my heart as I realise what I've just said, just how much I've revealed with these four words. My god. Anger with myself and disbelief has me frozen in place, waiting for her answer.

I'm not sure if I want one.

We are so close that I can feel her breath on my face. She doesn't speak, and her silence both unnerves and reassures me. I want her to deny it. I want her to admit it.

I don't want to consider the implications of either.

My breath catches hard in my throat as I watch her, my own words still ringing mockingly in my ears. Her mouth is a whisper away from mine, and it takes every ounce of willpower that I possess to resist pulling her body hard against mine. Lightening-quick memories of her soft curves beneath me, her hips straining against mine as my tongue plunders her mouth are nearly my undoing.

Her eyes widen in the wake of my words, the question that I have forced her to confront. Shock, then a light of realisation floods her eyes. Then it is gone, as though it was never there. I feel her mind push me away, like a slap in the face.

Confused, she retreats behind her anger. "Oh, you came up with a brilliant idea... almost kill Gray. Come on, Michael. At least have the decency to admit it!"

I take a deep breath and embrace her rage with relief. Anything to distract from the aching hollow inside me, a dull throb of misery pushing on my chest. Her refusal to acknowledge what we both know is between us has affected me in a way that I just don't want to accept. This can't happen. I need to push her away. This is not safe for either of us.

"Yes. It was my idea."  I remember the feeling of the steering wheel in my hands, the darkened street, Gray's startled face white with shock. He will never know how close he was to losing his life in that instant, or how close I was to taking it from him. I can only hope she never finds out I was actually behind the wheel. There was no need for me to be involved. Any half-competent Operative would have been capable of carrying out a fake hit-and-run scenario. I told myself that I wanted to be sure that he was left unharmed.  Madeline hadn't been convinced by my explanation.

She sucks her breath in. She obviously did not expect me to admit this. Perhaps she was clinging to the hope that I didn't have anything to do with Gray's near-accident.

The angry tears well up in her eyes once more as she stares at me. "You're sick."

She is nearly at the door, and the need to tell her the truth suddenly overwhelms me.

"I only proposed it after I heard theirs."

She turns to me, her face filling with fear. I will not soften this blow for her. If I do, the events of the past few weeks will have taught her nothing.

"They wanted to kill him." There is no need for me to explain who 'they' were.

She wavers, her eyes locked on mine. My heart aches for her, but I cannot help her with this. This was an overdue lesson that she had to learn the hard way, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I walk over to my desk and pick up her gun. She does not move, even when I move to stand close beside her and touch her hand.

Her skin is warm and soft beneath my fingertips, and I try to ignore the fact that I can see the pale skin of her arms and upper chest through the black lace of her shirt. I silently will her to take the gun from my hand. I need her to want to survive. I need her.

Her head is bowed in defeat.

"Gray will heal, his daughter will grow up... and they will have the life they deserve."

Her body tenses and her eyes come up to stare at me. I can offer her nothing more. I long to comfort her, but I cannot. Her hand hangs limp at her side, and she makes no attempt to take the gun from mine. I reach up with my other hand and lightly touch her arm, gently pushing the handle of the gun into her grasp. My touch seems to break her reverie, and she snatches the gun from me, wrenching her arm from my grip. She moves to leave, but turns to face me again with a stare so open and intense that I can feel my heart start to pound erratically. Anger at myself for making myself so vulnerable is suddenly at war with a longing so intense that I begin to silently pray that she leaves my office right now. Now, before I compound my mistake by touching her, caressing her as my hands and body are clamouring to do. She pulls away from me, and with a final icy glare, she is gone.

Gritting my teeth, I slam the door that she has left open behind her. Relief surges through my body. I manage to resist the overwhelming urge to follow her, to make sure that she is all right. She will be fine. Her anger can only make her stronger. I can deal with all hurt and suspicion that she can lay at my door, as long as she is alive.  Dealing with my own emotions, however, may well prove to be far more of a struggle than I ever imagined.

Shaking my head, as if trying to will away the lingering Nikita-shaped fog in my thoughts, I turn and head back to my desk, my work, my life, because wishing for a different life is something none of us can afford to risk.

As long as she lives, I can survive.  

 

~*~


End file.
